Jake
“Someone tell me what the fuck is going on here?” I shouted, raising my voice over the beeping machines, practically hyperventilating as the room closed in around me.
One of two police officers standing in the room stepped up, blocking my view of Aly lying in that damn bed. “Sir, I’m sorry, you’re going to have to leave if you’re not immediate family.”
I shrugged his hand off my shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere. That’s my girl in that bed. With a stump for a leg. What the fuck happened?”
“Sir, please.”
“Get your fucking paw off me.”
The old Jake rumbled deep in my belly; angry-and-fighting Jake was taking over. I was mad-at-the-world Jake, the man I’d been before her, my Aly-cat.
“Legs!” Tears squeezed from my eyes as my legs weakened and I dropped to one knee.
“Sir, you’re going to have to take this out to the waiting room.”
“Legs,” I shouted.
“Jake!”
Bess was next to me, her dark hair spilling over her face as she leaned down to hug me, her own eyes filling with tears. She ran her hand down my back. “Jake, stand up, honey. Aly’s in the bed over there, she needs you. Okay?”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but who are you?” the female officer asked.
Bess ignored them until she helped me upright. Turning to the officers, she extended one hand in greeting as she swiped at her tears with the other. “Bess Wrigley. I’m this man’s sister-in-law. This is Jake Wrigley, and that’s his significant other lying in the bed.”
Her expression soured as she jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “And this is Shirley, she’s the woman who found Ms. Road and brought her here. She may be able to answer some of your questions.”
I vaguely remember the cop saying something about being back to speak with me, not to go far—fucking-A, I wasn’t going far—and Shirley following the officers out of the room.
In a haze, I stepped away from Bess and staggered to the bed, then did what came naturally. I crawled in next to Aly. The bed was narrow, so I made myself as small as possible, lying on my side next to her. Hesitant, I ran my hand down her leg closest to me, and let out a sigh of relief when it seemed fine. Then my hand hovered over the left, scared to hurt her. There was one of those air cushions vibrating life into the stump.
Frustrated that I couldn’t do anything for her, I simply cupped her cheek and kissed the edge of her mouth. Trying to avoid the IVs that ran into her arm, I watched her chest rise and fall with each beep, and closed my eyes with my arm wrapped around my Aly-cat.
“Jake.” The voice was ragged, but I swore I heard my name spoken in my dreams.
“Jake.” There it was again.
I struggled to wake up. Prying my eyes open, I found Aly looking at me. Her nose was red and swollen; she’d been crying. Realizing we weren’t alone, I glanced around. Bess was still sniffling, curled up in a chair in the corner, and a cop stood in the doorway.
“Al, you had me a fucking mess.” My knuckles grazed her cheek, and she brought her hand, the one free of wires, to my rough cheek.
Her eyes squeezed shut as she whispered, “I don’t have a leg.”
“Shh.” I gathered her close and rubbed my cheek against hers, mindful of my stubble. “Shh.”
We stayed like that for a while, her cheek tucked into my neck, a river of tears falling from her eyes and sliding down my throat. Eventually Bess left the room, murmuring a few words to the cop as she left. My shirt was soaked, and my head was a fucking mess.
“Aly, what happened?” I had to ask.
She looked up at me and lay back on her pillow, closing her eyes. “I still don’t know it all, but I was running on the stairs, and then I was in a barn with a Russian woman yelling about fixing the case, and going on and on about justice. Cameron showed up and took her. My leg was already crushed. I don’t know how it first broke . . . I think it was broken when I came to . . . but then that woman kept stepping on it.”
Inside I was screaming, but on the outside, I schooled my expression. Stepping on it? Jesus Fucking Christ.
“I don’t have a leg,” she whispered, her misery plain. “You can’t call me Legs anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter, babe. I got you. We’re gonna find that bitch and guess the fuck what? Rain justice.”
She didn’t say anything more, only sobbed.
Aly alternated between sobbing and sleeping for days, but refused to say anything more. The physical therapy people came and went, and she merely nodded or shook her head when necessary.
It broke my heart that she wouldn’t talk to me, but I understood. She had a lot to process, so I gave her the space she needed, mentally anyway. Physically, I stuck to her like glue.
I ignored Shirley, who waited in the hall or the waiting room for a week. I slept and showered in Aly’s room, despite her ignoring me. When the nurses kicked me out of the room to tend to her, I did push-ups and sit-ups and pull-ups and power jabs in the waiting room.
Bess checked on Aly’s mom, and then went home to her own family and my dog. Tony brought me clothes from the gym. Reluctantly, I called Camper and asked her to check on the construction. After all, she owed me. When we spoke on the phone, I told her about Aly, and we eventually made the connection between Camper’s stalker and the woman who attacked Aly. The police were able to get a pretty good sketch from Camper’s description.
Afraid of his woman, who I learned was named Marina, Gus Cameron turned himself in. He spilled everything she’d been up to, including how he’d found Aly and what condition she was in when he dragged Marina away. He did call 911 to send help, but by then, Shirley had taken Aly. The cops had thought it was a prank call when they found an empty barn, so didn’t bother to look close enough for blood or evidence.
Barry stopped in daily to report to Aly on the case’s progress, stale smoke and coffee on his breath. Aly continued to be silent. She listened to his updates with a blank expression and nodded at what seemed like the appropriate times.
Drew Fucking Burnes sent flowers. I wanted to throw them in the trash, but instead I set them on her windowsill and read Aly the card. She didn’t even smile as I hoped she would.
The police finally caught Marina. While searching her bag, they found a key to a storage locker where she kept enough evidence to lock her up without bail until she would stand trial. She had been the one setting up hate crimes all over the city. Yes, Cameron shared beliefs with her, but he was mostly the hired muscle and Marina was the mastermind.
Of course, Cameron immediately cooperated, and I didn’t know what kind of plea deal they cut with him. But at the end of the day, I had to give him props—he got that bitch away from Aly with only a gun shot in the air. Who knew what his original plan was, or if he even had one. According to Barry, Cameron probably thought he could protect his girl and pin it on someone else. But he rolled over like a dead fish when given the chance, handing over Marina, unharmed and smeared in guilt.
With all of us rallied around her, fierce Aly didn’t lift from the silent fog she’d cocooned herself in. She went about everything that was expected of her, doing her stretches and following the hospital staff’s instructions. But all the while she stared blankly, not speaking, ignoring what happened to her, and apparently not caring.
One afternoon, a woman named Hilary showed up to visit. I assumed this was the roommate Aly had mentioned once before, and I welcomed the support, swallowing back tears. I was a mess, and not a very manly one. Everything between Aly and me had grown so deep and gone so hard, I didn’t know much other than she was the one for me, and she was lying there suffering.
I didn’t care whether it was irrational or not. I just knew she was my “it girl,” and I needed her back.
Apparently, Aly’s friends at work had called this Hilary, and she immediately hightailed it to Pittsburgh from Cleveland.
“You must be Jake!” The vivacious Asian chick pulled me in for a hug. The tiny thing must have only weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet, but when she yanked me hard into her skinny arms, I felt comforted for the first time in days.
Relief swept over me as I mumbled, “That’s me,” into her shiny black hair, trying to steal some of her enthusiasm.
She reached up to pat my back, telling me how sorry she was for what we were going through. “I love this girl too, you know,” she whispered, then pulled away and looked up into my eyes, hers glistening with unshed tears.
All too soon, she pulled away and seemed to bury her worry deep inside before she plopped down on the bed next to Aly. Smiling brightly as she chattered about random inconsequential things, she dug through her enormous purse until she found a hairbrush, then nudged Aly until she sat up and turned her back so Hilary could brush her hair.
Aly didn’t speak, but tears slipped from her eyes as Hilary rambled on.
When she noticed Aly reach up to swipe away a tear, Hilary stopped and caught Aly’s chin, turning her face toward hers. “Aly, honey, I know you don’t trust easy, but you trust me, and I’m telling you it’s going to work out,” she whispered.
Reaching her hand to brush Aly’s hair away from her face, Hilary went on. “See that man? He’s it for you. I knew when you told me about him a few weeks ago. I could see the twinkle in your eye. It had never been there before, and I want to see it back. So you get better and when you are, you’ll see I’m right.”
When she left a few hours later, Hilary squeezed my hand, sticking her business card with her cell number written on it inside my palm. “Stay strong and keep me posted, Jake. She doesn’t have too many people in her corner. She needs you.” With a gentle kiss on the cheek, Hilary left me to pretend to be brave again.
After ten days, my beautiful Alyson Road went to rehab a mute, and we—Bess, Lane, James, Barry, and even Camper—all continued to move forward, crossing our fingers she’d come around soon.